


Salma and the Hive

by teratorequests (bravelittletoreador)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aliens, Aphrodisiacs, Bugs & Insects, Nonbinary Character, Other, Oviposition, POV Third Person, Terato, Teratophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 19:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravelittletoreador/pseuds/teratorequests
Summary: The first part of what will hopefully, eventually, be a multi-part sci fi space adventure about a woman and her bakers dozen of non binary bee boyfriendsSalma responds to an unusual job posting. A ship belonging to the mysterious Hymenopteran is looking to hire a new crew member- specifically a human female. Salma half accepts the interview just to find out what they're after, and soon discovers it's stranger and more exciting than she could ever have hoped for.Bonus trivia- all the Hymenopteran are named after bee-friendly plants!





	Salma and the Hive

Salma straightened her clothes and smoothed back her hair, stalling as she tried to steady her nerves. The ship yard buzzed behind her, full of people, human and otherwise, hurrying about their business, boarding ships that would take them all over the Sol system and beyond. The ship in front of Salma was far from the largest in the station, but it was one of the finest. A sleek black and gold vessel, all curving aerodynamic lines and glittering iridescent solar sails. Not much was known yet about the reclusive, isolationist Hymenopteran Empire, but it was known that they were very advanced and very resource wealthy. And now Salma knew one more thing: they were looking for human crewmen.

Before she could get the courage to continue up the gangway, the hatch at the end opened with a quiet hiss and a Hymenopteran emerged. They were tall, as all Hymenoptera were, with a proud, triangular head and large, glossy compound eyes. Their thin, segmented neck vanished into a ruff of white and golden brown fuzz that reminded Salma of fur. It had two sets of arms, their glossy back carapace fringed with delicate white hairs. The thicker pair of legs they stood on were dense with yellow fur. Their abdomen, held gracefully behind them, was striped with black and vibrant blue. They were delicate and menacing all at once, the light glinting on the sharp sawblade edges of those limbs and the stinger at the end of their abdomen. Salma swallowed a nervous lump in her throat and waved as she saw them looking at her. The Hymenopteran’s wings fluttered against their back and a moment later they were gliding down the ramp towards her.

“You are the candidate we are interviewing today?”

They didn’t speak. Hymenoptera had no spoken language or the biological capacity to use one. They communicated with one another through an intricate combination of movements and pheromones. But when they’d encountered other species that required auditory cues in order to communicate they’d developed technology to translate directly from their thought patterns. They simply thought whatever they wanted to say and, with some deviance for inflection, reference, and colloquialisms, the small device strapped to the bicep of their left upper arm spoke the words in the Human trade tongue. Salma glanced at the device as it spoke, a bit thrown off, then cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure.

“Yes. I’m Salma Ardeshir,” she said, offering a hand to shake, which the Hymenopteran accepted with unnecessary care, as though afraid they might break it.

“I am the Captain of this vessel,” they said. “You may call me Galanthus.”

Salma stood up a little straighter, flustered. She hadn’t expected the captain themselves to come and greet her.

“Please, come inside.” Galanthus gestured up the ramp. “We are ready to begin the interview immediately. If you are still interested?”

“Of course,” Salma said at once. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Our last candidate excused herself as soon as she saw me,” Galanthus replied. “I understand many humans have not seen one of the Hymenoptera before. I believe she expected us to be more… humanoid. Have you seen one of us before?”

They began to move up the ramp and Salma followed at once, mesmerized by the oil slick shimmer of the Captain’s wings.

“No,” she said. “I mean, I had heard descriptions but they really don’t do you justice. They mostly just said you looked like bees. Uh, a kind of insect life on our home planet.”

“Yes, I have heard the comparison.” Galanthus made a small, polite gesture at the hatch, bowing at their thin waist and indicating the way forward with all four hands. “We have not allowed many photos of us to be made public for this reason. We understand many humans have an instinctive negative reaction to such insects. You do not find the comparison apt?”

Salma stepped through the hatch on to the ship, looking around curiously. The atrium was large and comfortable for the size of the ship. She could see through it to the bridge at the nose in one direction. There was a large hexagonal hatch at the other end, which she assumed led to a bay of some kind. She’d expected crew quarters, but the layout seemed more like a shuttle. Albeit a very large, elaborate shuttle. The inner panels were waxy white and amber and the same shiny carapace black from the outer shell. Several other Hymenoptera were moving through the ship. There was a surprising amount of diversity in their appearance, Salma noted. There were a couple much large than the captain, one of which was covered head to toe in yellow fuzz with barely any black carapace showing. Others had dramatic coloration like the captain’s stripes. She saw one with a red tipped abdomen, and another who’s carapace wasn’t black but a shining metallic blue, a beautiful contrast against its halo of yellow hair.

“I mean, you do resemble bees,” Salma agreed belatedly, still staring at the rest of the crew. “I see where the comparison comes from. But it isn’t where my thoughts went first.”

Galanthus tilted their head curiously, looking at her with their unreadable shining eyes.

“Where did your thoughts go?” they asked. “If you care to tell me.”

Salma smiled, turning a little pink.

“It’s a bit embarrassing,” she admitted. “But I thought of the fairies from the illustrations in my books when I was kid. They were always impossibly thin and graceful like you. The colors are similar too. And the way you shine looks like magic. Sorry, I hope that isn’t species-ist.”

“Not at all,” Galanthus said, and Salma didn’t know enough about Hymenopteran expressions to tell how they felt, but their wings fluttered against their back for a moment as they led her towards a small hexagonal hatch she hadn’t noticed previously. There was a small room with a table beyond which Salma assumed had been set up for the interviews. She took a seat in the nearest chair, frowning as she realized her legs didn’t reach the floor. The chair was clearly made with a Hymenopteran in mind, with a low back to accommodate wings and extra height for their long legs. She did her best to sit up straight and look professional anyway.

Galanthus sat down across from her and, after a moment, two other Hymenopteran joined them. One was the Hymenopteran with the blue metallic carapace. The other seemed similar to Galanthus, but much larger and fuzzier.

“My first officer, Solidago,” Galanthus said, gesturing to the blue Hymenopteran. “And my chief of security, Stonecrop.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Salma said politely, and they both buzzed at her in what she assumed was an equally polite acknowledgement.

The interview was fairly standard at first and Salma breezed through it without too much concern, answering questions about her previous work and interstellar travel experience. All the while she remained on edge, waiting for the real interview to start. This was all basic information they’d likely seen on her resume. She had no idea if most of it even applied to the job she was interviewing for. The offer had been both incredibly specific and quite vague at the same time. ‘Seeking human females for ambassadorial position aboard Hymenopteran exploratory vessels. Must be without criminal record and willing to release medical history.’

Just the phrase exploratory vessels had been enough to raise eyebrows across the galaxy. The Hymenoptera had never engaged in exploration before. They barely ever left their home system. What they might have been planning, and what human females had to do with those plans, had been a subject of curious debate in the media since the ads had gone out. Many women had applied but most were rejected without interview, apparently based on their medical records. Others made it to the interview but apparently didn’t pass it. They didn’t offer explanations on why, referring questions to non-disclosure agreements they’d signed with the Hymenoptera ahead of time. In all the news Salma had seen regarding the Hymenopteran job search, only a spare handful of women had been hired.

So far, Solidago had been asking most of the questions while Galanthus scrolled through lines of complex hexagonal Hymenopteran script on a small screen that floated translucent before them. Finally, Solidago cleared their throat and inclined their head slightly towards Galanthus, who shifted their limbs in a barely perceptible response. Solidago pushed Salma’s resume aside.

“This next series of questions,” Galanthus said. “May be uncomfortable. You may decline to answer any of them, or leave if you choose.”

Solidago pushed a non disclosure form towards Salma on a thin slip of digital paper. She’d been expecting it and signed it with a slightly shaking hand. This was what she’d been waiting for. If nothing else, she was going to find out what this was all about.

“Your medical records indicate you’ve been tested for cross-species allergens previously,” Galanthus said as Solidago took the form back and filed it away.

Salma’s cheeks colored a bit.

“Yes,” she said. “I was dating a Rahomii for a while. We got tested together. The Galactic Medical Advisory cleared Humans and Rahomii as posing no significant microbial threat to one another years ago, but we wanted to be careful.”

“A prudent choice,” Galanthus replied. “I trust it was not what you discovered in that test that ended the relationship?”

“No, he just got a really good job in Alpha Centauri,” Salma replied. “He wanted to settle down there but I wanted to keep traveling. It ended amicably. We still talk.”

“So,” and Galanthus seemed to pause here to gather themselves, “would you say you are open to the experience of intimate relations with a non-human again?”

Salma’s face turned a few degrees darker.

“That’s… a very personal question.”

“It is fine if you don’t want to answer,” Galanthus said, holding up all four of their beautifully segmented hands in a gesture of peace. “But I am afraid the questions only get more personal from here.”

Salma, flustered, tried to master her embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s fine. Yes, I am open to having those kind of relationships again in the future.”

“And you had no difficulty with physical intimacy in your previous, non-human relationship?” Galanthus asked. “I assume you were physically intimate, judging by the allergen test.”

Salma put a hand over her face, pursing her lips as she attempted to find the words to answer. Of all the things she’d anticipated, an inquiry about her extra-human sex escapades was not it.

“No, no difficulty,” she said. “There was some adjustment obviously, but we figured it out.”

“Would you be comfortable having such intimacy with a Hymenopteran?”

Salma, had she not been seated, might have fallen over. Brick red and unable to even look in the direction of the three Hymenopteran at the table across from her, she nodded.

“I am sorry,” Galanthus said. “I require verbal confirmation.”

Salma put her her face in her hands and took a deep breath, trying not to imagine what it would feel like to have Galanthus’s arms around her. What would they feel like, all four of them, holding her close? If she pressed her face to the thick fuzz around the Hymenopteran’s collar, would it be soft?

“Yes,” she said, when she could speak through her embarrassment again. She cleared her throat, sitting up straighter and trying to find her composure. “Yes, I would.”

Galanthus’s wings buzzed and the other two glanced at him. There was a brief, silent exchange, the gestures too subtle for Salma to interpret. At last, they looked at her again.

“What do you know about Hymenoptera?” Galanthus asked.

“About as much as anyone I suppose,” Salma answered. “I know you live in communities centered on a queen, and that the peerage of queens forms your world government. I know you’ve colonized a couple of the planets in your home solar system, but nothing beyond that. I know your home planet is larger and less dense than Earth and very resource rich. Not much else has been released to the public.”

“Do you know why our communities are centered around queens?” Galanthus asked.

Salma shrugged a little, shaking her head.

“No,” she said. “No one’s ever seen a Hymenopteran queen as far as I know. I guess I just figured it was a title given to your leaders?”

“Unfortunately, that is incorrect,” Galanthus replied. “The role is biological. A Queen Hymenopteran is significantly larger than her citizens, ranging from ten to twenty feet tall, depending on age and rank in the peerage. I have heard of exceptional queens in our history more than doubling that estimate.”

Salma swallowed a nervous lump in her throat, trying to imagine something that big.

“Our need to center our communities on them is also biological,” Galanthus continued. “We do not have genders or sexes as your species does. By the definitions of your people, we are essentially a single sex species. All reproduction is dependent on the Queen. All Hymenoptera are capable of producing eggs, but only the Queen can fertilize and incubate those eggs successfully. The complex and constantly shifting chemical properties of her egg chambers are still not fully understood and attempts to replicate them have been met with very limited success.”

Salma was both fascinated and slightly unsettled by this sudden insight into Hymenopteran biology. No one else outside the Hymenoptera knew about this. Except, maybe, the other successful candidates for this job. But why were they telling her?

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” she said. “How is this relevant?”

“It is relevant because it is the reason the Hymenoptera have not undergone any significant exploratory missions nor colonized outside our solar system,” Galanthus explained. “We must have a Queen. And any ship that carries a Queen must, by necessity, carry an entire community. Workers to farm and prepare her incredibly specialized diet, nurses to tend the brood, handmaids to support her and ease her labor, and all of the facilities those things imply. All that aside from the actual crew and equipment required just to get the ship where it’s going. In order to facilitate interplanetary travel, the Hymenoptera had to build an entire flying, functioning city. The sheer scale of this task has put us behind most of the other spacefaring races in space flight technology. But that is a deficit we are attempting to correct.”

“How?” Salma asked, her blood humming with the thrill of learning such secrets.

“By recruiting proxy Queens,” Galanthus said. “Queen Regents, some are calling it. A stand in who can be treated with a Queen’s pheromones and fulfill her essential roles without producing brood and without requiring additional facilities. We have determined humans to be ideal for this position.”

Salma was quiet for a moment, taking that in. Is that what this was, then? They wanted her to be a Regent? But why? If reproduction wasn’t required, why were the Queen’s necessary? What 'essential roles’ was she supposed to fulfill?

“Why?” she asked, short and simple.

Galanthus shifted, perhaps with unease, and there was another brief, silent conversation between the three Hymenopteran.

“Because the Regent must service the crew,” Galanthus said at last, a little stiffly, and Salma’s eyes widened. “Once a breeding cycle, a little more than thirty solar days, the crew requires intimacy with a Queen. They must deposit their eggs, or become egg bound and die.”

Salma felt a shiver run down her spine at the thought. No wonder they hadn’t left their home system. Any journey farther than their home planet’s moons would take more than a month, and thus mean death for anyone involved.

“It is a painful, humiliating death,” Galanthus said, wings standing stiffly from their back. “One we would not willingly inflict on even the most depraved of criminals. We have long searched for medical or mechanical alternatives that might temporarily suppress the production of eggs or allow us to lay them outside a Queen, but what few solutions we have found come with dangerous draw backs that make them impossible to use during extended space flight. We must have a living Queen.”

“Why not use one of your own then?” Salma asked, overwhelmed by what she was hearing.

“We attempted this first,” Galanthus replied. “But our biology complicates this. All Hymenoptra are, in a sense, neotenous Queens. A Queen is made by over feeding a larval Hymenoptra like any other. Where a normal Hymenoptra stops developing at our current state, the Queen continues. We all carry the beginnings of the Queen’s reproductive organs, but her extended development allows them to grow to become viable for reproduction. If a Hymenoptra is treated with the Queen pheromones, their body begins to behave as though it were a Queen. Those organs become active, however stunted, and can easily kill the new pseudo-Queen in a variety of terrible ways, not the least of which is by unintentionally fertilizing their own eggs, with no egg chamber in which to incubate them. I am certain you can imagine the disastrous effect on the body as the larva begins to develop. I have read that your species occasionally suffers from ectopic pregnancies. The result is similar.”

Salma leaned back and took a deep breath, still trying to process all this. She scrubbed a hand over her face, which was still hot with embarrassment, and tried to sum up what she was hearing.

“So,” she said. “You want to hire human females on to your crew… so that you can lay eggs in them like a Queen?”

“Yes, essentially.” Galanthus folded one pair of hands on the table and steepled the others. “Humans are of a similar size to Hymenoptra. Our genitalia are compatible. We have few if any transmittable diseases or parasites. And most vitally the human female’s reproductive system is highly acidic, so the eggs are harmlessly dissolved. Additionally, humans are known to be more open to physical relationships outside their species than most other space faring races.”

Salma couldn’t help laughing at that. Human beings, sluts of the galaxy. When she could control herself again she sat up straighter, running through it all once more in her head.

“So,” she said. “This position I’m applying for, it would be as a Regent?”

“Yes,” Galanthus said, the voice from the translator calm and even.

“I’d fly with your crew on the first ever Hymenopteran extra-solar exploratory missions, and once a month I would…” she paused and licked her dry lips. “…Have sex. With the entire crew.”

“Yes.” Galanthus’s wings buzzed. “The crew would be no more than fifteen Hymentoptera. With time, we can adjust their breeding cycles to whatever arrangement you prefer. If you would like to service a single crewman a day, or several once a week, or all of them at once, that is acceptable. It is entirely up to you. Otherwise, your time would be your own. You could be trained to perform other duties on the ship, or engage in your own hobbies. You would be treated as a valued human ambassador, beholden to no one, except where the health of the crew is concerned. The initial mission would be four hundred solar days, give or take.”

Salma nodded, contemplating the implications of what Galanthus was saying. She’d be able to travel like she’d always wanted to. See places and parts of the universe no human had ever been. She glanced at the Hymenoptra across from her again, taking in Stonecrop’s broad chest, Solidago’s striking colors and soft fuzz, Galanthus’s noble, angular face and glittering eyes. Her skin prickled at the thought of 'servicing’ them. It wasn’t something she was opposed to. But an entire crew, for more than a year? Could she handle that? She’d never been accused of having a low sex drive, but fifteen partners a month for a year seemed like a lot even for her. At the same time, she couldn’t deny there was a certain appeal there.

“Are you interested in accepting the position?” Galanthus asked.

Salma looked away, still turning it over in her mind.

“We do not require a definitive answer at this time,” Galanthus assured her. “Only to know if you are considering it or if the idea repulses you. If you are not at all interested, we can end the interview now.”

Salma started to answer, hesitated, then pursed her lips as doubts nagged at her.

“I’m considering it,” she said honestly.

Galanthus brought all four of their hands together in what she assumed was a pleased gesture, turning to converse with the other two for a moment.

“If you are amenable to the concept,” Galanthus said after a moment, “We could take this shuttle up to the city-ship in orbit. The craft we will be serving on is docked there. You could see where you would be staying and meet the rest of the crew. It may help you to decide one way or the other.”

“Alright,” Salma agreed if only because she wasn’t sure how else to make this decision. At least going to see the ship would give her some time to think.

With surprisingly little fuss the shuttle was made ready and departed the station to rejoin the mother ship in orbit around the planet, the gas giant Ehecatl. The station occupied Ehecatl’s second largest moon. The largest was home to a small mining colony who’s major claim to fame was being the human settlement furthest from Earth. On the edge of known space, Ehecatl colony had been the point of first contact for the Hymenoptra. The Hymenopteran ship that had made that first contact still orbited the gas giant and, having heard how dangerous and laborious space travel was for the species, Salma was hardly surprised. She watched the massive city-ship through the shuttle viewscreen as they approached, stunned once again by the sheer size of it, as she had been when she’d first arrived on Ehecatl a few days ago in preparation for this interview. Vaguely diamond shaped and reminiscent to Salma of nothing so much as an ancient bastion, a strange floating castle of some forgotten magical age, the ship dwarfed the station they’d just left, as well as most of Ehecatl’s moons. Its spires glittered like gold and ivory and nacre, hung with solar sails like bronze banners, catching the reflected light from the planet. It’s surface crawled with detail and activity, like an alabaster city on a hill, building towards those pearly spires. Its gravity was enough to have caused noticeable tidal changes on Ehecatl’s stormy skin, giving birth to neon storms shot with red iron dust, which swirled effervescent beneath it.

Salma tried to keep track of the shape of the place as they landed, but the detail swallowed her up until she couldn’t even guess what part of the massive ship they had landed on. In contrast to the shuttle’s black and amber carapace, the inner halls and structures of the city ship were primarily white and gold. Eggshell colored panels with the soft texture of wax, or else harder, shining like the inside of a seashell, bordered by translucent warm mortar like solidified sunlight. And always that elegant hexagonal pattern, repeated everywhere, structural and elegant. The design of the place favored wide, airy chambers connected by narrow halls. The largest rooms were filled with cultivated plant life. It didn’t surprise Salma to discover the Hymenoptra had a fondness for flowers, though their colors and structures resembled nothing on Earth. She drew up a breathing mask from the collar of her jacket as she saw them. When she’d first started traveling to alien planets she’d had the usual improvements made to her immune system to protect her from fatal allergic reactions to foreign allergens, but no amount of adjustment could cover everything and these plants had likely never been seen by another human, much less cataloged for their possible allergenic properties. It was better safe than sorry.

She was quiet as Galanthus showed her around the city ship, giving her the tour, pointing out the farms on a terrace far below them, the Queen’s chambers high above. Then they headed towards the dock where Galanthus’s scout ship was docked. It was a beautiful ship, much larger than the shuttle but with the same sleek lines. Galanthus introduced her to the crew and Salma did her best to smile and be friendly and remember names and faces, but it was difficult when she kept thinking that she might be professionally sleeping with all of these people in the near future. Not all of them had translators equipped to talk to her, but they were all polite regardless and she found them as a species to be quiet aesthetically appealing. Their features were quite diverse, the crew members apparently originating from a variety of ethnically distinct groups on the Hymenopteran homeworld. The differences were mostly cosmetic according to Galanthus, with a few exceptions. The majority of the ethnic groups on Hymenoptera and represented on the ship were from the same taxonomical family, genetically similar enough to interbreed and essentially identical biologically. There were a handful of groups outside that family however. Solidago represented one such group. They and the more common Hymenopteran species shared a distant ancestor but over the millennia had drifted too far to successfully interbreed. Solidago’s people didn’t even live in communal hives traditionally.

As they roamed the scout ship, Galanthus pointing out the sleeping quarters, the dining areas, first Stonecrop and the Solidago wandered off to tend some other more pressing duty while Galanthus continued to show Salma around.

“These will be your rooms, should you choose to stay with us.” Galanthus indicated the door ahead of them and gestured for her to touch the panel beside it. It buzzed briefly against her fingertips before the door opened. “The door can not be opened by anyone but you, of course.”

Salma stepped inside, her eyes widening as she took in the spacious room which was, in fact, a set of rooms. A cozy living and dining area which they were standing in, a bedroom with a human style bed which she could see through one door. A private bathroom through the door in the opposite wall. The decor was a mix of human style furniture and objects she assumed were Hymenopteran in nature.

“I hope it is large enough?” Galanthus inquired. “We were told humans require more space and privacy than Hymenoptera. The experts we consulted assured us this was enough but it is still such a small space compared to what a Queen would require- I can’t help fearing it is inadequate.”

“It’s bigger than my last apartment,” Salma said with a laugh, running her hand over a cushioned bench which she thought might be the Hymenopteran equivalent of a couch. “The first place I lived could have fit inside this room.”

There was another door across the room which Salma approached curiously. Galanthus made a strange, chirping noise, following her as she crossed the room. She opened the door, frowning curiously. The room was a bit larger than the living area and filled with odd furniture. Salma couldn’t place it until she recognized the odd appendages rising from the end of a tall, padded table as stirrups. Her face heated and she pressed a hand to her mouth, not sure if she was stopping herself from laughing or swearing.

“We thought you might conduct your duties here,” Galanthus explained. “There is another door, so the crew can enter without crossing through your rooms. It can only be opened with your signature, of course. The expert suggested you might like to have a separate area from your living space for your work, but we also believed the ability to retreat to the privacy of your rooms afterwards was important. It is likely to be… taxing. It would be rude to expect you to walk back through the ship after every session.”

“You have put a lot of thought into this,” Salma murmured, running her hands over a strange bench with two padded levels, one about the height of her knees, the other about a foot higher. She took a deep breath as she belatedly put together the position such a bench was ideal for.

“Finding a way to make this arrangement work is critical for our society to progress,” Galanthus said, glittering eyes unreadable. “It is by far the simplest of all the alternatives we’ve considered. The only complication has been finding humans willing to participate.”

“It’s a lot to ask,” Salma said, still contemplating the bench before her. “Give up your whole life for a year to become a prostitute for a ship full of aliens you know nothing about? I can see why a lot of people wouldn’t be interested. Humans used to have a lot of hang ups about sex. Not so many years ago an arrangement like this would have been the height of shame for a woman. People would have considered her ruined, disgraceful. Some people still think that way.”

“Are you one of them?” Galanthus asked.

“No, of course not,” Salma said with a small laugh. “Sex is just an activity. How much you have or don’t have shouldn’t have any more bearing on your value as a person than how much football you play, or how many cupcakes you’ve eaten in your life.”

“If you do not think it is shameful,” Galanthus said. “Then why should the opinions of those who do matter?”

Salma was quiet for a moment, wondering if she should try to explain the complex and frequently irrational social pressures of human society. She decided Galanthus probably already had an idea of what she meant. They were just trying to make a point. They reached out to touch her hand where it lay on the bench. Their carapaced fingers were smooth and cool and slightly textured on the underside.

“Is there anything I can do to help you make your decision?” Galanthus asked, fingers brushing the top of her hand. “Whatever you need, we are prepared to provide.”

Salma swallowed and glanced up at the alien, wondering once again what it would be like to touch that fur, to feel those hands on her skin.

“It might help,” she said, heart racing, “if I was more familiar with how you- With how Hymenoptera… mate.”

She saw Galanthus straighten up a little, wings stirring against their back.

“I have some informational videos,” they offered. “They are very illuminating.”

“I’m more of a hands on learner,” Salma said with a grin and Galanthus’s hand tightened over hers. She laced their fingers, smiling. “If I’m going to be spending a year doing something, I should know what I’m getting in to, right?”

“I would be honored to give you a demonstration,” Galanthus said, wings humming. Salma stepped a little closer to the alien, her heart racing, feeling like she might be out of her mind to be trying this. Unsure where to start, she reached for the fur-like ruff around Galanthus’s neck as she’d been wanting to all day, running her fingers through the impossibly soft fibers. She felt the strong shoulders underneath, smoothing her hands along the carapace of their upper arms. She explored Galanthus’s chest with quiet intensity, as curious as she was aroused.

“May I touch you as well?” Galanthus asked, hesitating.

“Yes,” Salma said immediately, her skin prickling with anticipation. “Please.”

At once she felt all four of their hands on her, the upper pair sliding up her throat to cradle her face, the lower pair finding her waist and squeezing her hips. 

She pressed an experimental kiss to Galanthus’s face, against the side of their mandibles. They chirped strangely and suddenly pulled her closer, arms closing around her to hold her pressed against them. Galanthus dropped their head to her throat and Salma gasped at the sensation of their mouthparts working against her skin, delicate and strange, like nails pressing against her neck. Her pulse beat under the hard edges of their mandibles, trusting them not to press too hard even as the risk thrilled her.

Her fingers traced the ridges and edges of Galanthus’s carapace as their hands slid under her clothing, learning her shape as she learned theirs. She moved into the touch as they grazed the underside of her breast and Galanthus seemed to take notice, cupping it and squeezing lightly. She groaned in approval, encouraging them to continue. Their second set of arms had slipped from her hips to her backside, gripping tight to pull her against them. Her hips rocked against theirs, pressing back into their hands, which squeezed tighter in response and then suddenly pulled away.

She couldn’t help a small disapproving sound as she opened her eyes, blinking in dazed confusion to find out why they’d stopped. Galanthus’s answer was to tug her towards a nearby padded table. The one, Salma noticed with a touch of excited embarrassment, with the stirrups. She was only too happy too cooperate as they pushed her down on to the table and began tugging at her clothing, unzipping her jacket just to below her breasts before pushing her shirt up above them, baring her lacy bra to the cool air. They paused for a moment as though surprised by the bra and ran their fingers over the lace at the top of the cup in what might have been wonder.

“Never seen a bra before?” she asked, grinning. 

“I have not,” Galanthus replied at once, and Salma sighed with pleasure as two of their hands settled over her breasts, thumbs stroking her through the silky fabric. “What is its purpose?”

“Just to look nice,” Salma answered, closing her eyes and relishing the sensation of their hands on her.

“It fulfills its purpose well,” Galanthus murmured. “Hymenoptera do not have such things. We don’t wear clothing often.”

“Maybe I’ll let you try it on later,” Salma said, half sincere, half teasing.

“I might take you up on that,” Galanthus agreed, sliding their fingers under the bra, making Salma gasp as they grazed the sensitive skin there. “It looks very nice on you. But I have a feeling it would look even better like this.”

They pulled the lace cups down and Salma felt her skin tingle and stiffen at the touch of the air, her nipples rising to rosy points.

“These are smaller than the woman in the instructional videos,” they mused, pinching at one of her nipples lightly.

“You’ve been studying?” Salma asked, red faced and squirming as the sharp tips of their fingers ghosted over the sensitive flesh.

“I would not attempt this without the certainty that I could make it enjoyable for you,” Galanthus said, one set of hands kneading her breasts while the other moved down to stroke her inner thigh through her pants. “You are to be my Queen after all.”

Salma felt a thrill run down her back at the intensity in his dark eyes. She was rapidly forgetting any of the misgivings she’d had about taking this job. Their fingers ran over the front of her jeans and she drew in a sharp breath at the brief contact. The captain bent, mandibles pressing against her skin, and she did her best to kiss them. Those strange jaws closed gently around her face, holding her in place as she discovered the long, warm tongue hidden behind those mouth parts, which teased her lips and then slid past them. Her eyes widened in surprise at it’s length and thickness, uncurling towards her throat, making her squirm as it stretched her mouth wide. Their mandibles held her in place, deliciously helpless as their tongue plundered her mouth, until she was breathless and clutching at their ruff for support.

When they pulled away at last they left her shivering and flushed, only to move south. She felt the length of their tongue curl briefly against the curve of her breast, but they didn’t linger, fingers already working at the fastening of her pants. She raised her hips to help Galanthus pull them down, realizing only as the air hit her just how wet she already was. They left her pants around her knees in favor of sliding a curious finger along her lips, spreading slick up through her folds. She rocked her hips up into the touch instinctively, nerves alight for the briefest touch. Galanthus held up their fingers to examine the moisture she’d left there and she blushed seeing the string of clear fluid connecting their fingers.

“Am I incorrect in my assumptions, or does this mean you’re excited?” they asked, and despite the flat tonality of the translator she was certain the captain was teasing her. She covered her burning face with her hands, unable to answer. They tugged her pants over one of her feet to get them out of the way, hanging now by her left ankle, and leaned closer. She felt the smooth underside of their carapace, cool against her heated skin, rubbing very intentionally against her lips. “I am sorry my Queen. I require verbal confirmation.”

“Yes,” Salma gasped, flustered and aching. “Yes, I’m excited, and you’re terrible.”

They made a low chirping sound that she was’t sure was excitement or laughter. Then they were between her thighs, mandibles gripping her hips as their tongue dragged its way through her folds, hot and dripping a golden, honey-thick fluid. Where it touched her she felt a sudden, tingling reaction, sending a rush of electricity rushing over her skin. Despite the pleasure she gasped, reaching down to stop Galanthus with a hand on their head.

“Wait,” she said. “I can feel something. That fluid-”

“It is not an allergic reaction,” they assured her, moving up to stroke her hair back from her face soothingly. “It is normal. There is often a significant size difference between us and our Queens, which can make things… unsatisfying for her. The fluids we produce ensure she is still able to enjoy the act. Our scientists assure me it will do nothing but enhance the experience for you. But do please let me know if anything begins to feel uncomfortable.”

Salma was having some trouble focusing by the time they finished speaking. The fluid was apparently doing its job. Everywhere it had touched felt suddenly a million times more sensitive, the mere brush of the air against it making her shiver. Tiny points of sensitivity like the barest pressure of a thousand pins prickled on her exposed skin. Galanthus’s tongue swiped along her lips again and fireworks exploded behind her eyes. She moaned, low and needy, her hips shaking and her head spinning.

Holy shit, she thought. She’d almost cum just from that. If that stuff made everything feel this good- Galanthus’s tongue touched her again and she lost the ability to think, rocking her hips up into the pleasure. She came in seconds, shaking and gasping.

“Are you alright?” Galanthus asked as Salma, clutching their head to keep them from doing any more, struggled to master her scrambled senses. Galanthus’s antennae swept forward to brush against her inner thigh like feathers, making her shiver.

“I’m… fine,” she said between gasps. “Just need a second. Will it always be that… that intense?”

“If my research is correct,” Galanthus said, massaging her thighs soothingly, “the second round should be less rapid as you adjust. You will be able to go as many rounds as you like, I assure you. Perhaps more than you would expect, actually, considering the aphrodisiac and muscle relaxing effects.”

Salma swallowed, the hairs on her arms standing on end. She thought that if Galanthus could smile, they would be. Instead they just parted her lips carefully and dove in again, their long, thick tongue driving directly inside her. Her shout of surprise rapidly became a moan of pleasure as that tongue curled against her inner walls, shifting and exploring her, opening her wide, and spreading more of the honey like fluid. She could feel it tingling and burning within her, making her ache for more. She rocked her hips, all but riding Galanthus’s face, unable to help herself.

They didn’t linger long inside her once they’d filled her with that burning honey, pulling back to curl that strange tongue around her clit, pouring honey over it as they lavished it with enough attention to have Salma’s toes curling, begging in a hoarse cry for them to keep going. The second climax was as intense as the first, rocking through her and leaving her head spinning. She lay there dazed, barely noticing Galanthus moving her, pulling her hips to the edge of the table and raising her legs into the stirrups, secured there with soft velcro straps. She came back to herself when she felt what she at first thought was the captain’s tongue rolling against her lips again. But Galanthus stood over her, their hands on her hips and she realized what she was feeling was coming from lower down. It was positioned a bit lower than it would have been on a human, sliding out of a discrete slit in the tail-like abdomen that extended from the captain’s narrow waist. It reminded her of their tongue, but significantly larger, and much thicker at the base. If she’d wrapped a hand around it she was confident her fingers wouldn’t touch. It formed a somewhat ovoid shape before tapering to a point about the width of a ping pong ball behind a slightly flared, arrow shaped tip. It was honey colored and slightly translucent. She could see a channel, like a pale opaque line, running through the center. Galanthus rocked their hips, sliding against her honey drenched lips, teasing her open.

They paused suddenly, reaching for a pouch she hadn’t noticed before, hidden within their fluff against one leg. Galanthus held up a small vial of clear fluid.

“I can not release eggs unless Queen pheromones are present,” they explained, still slowly rocking their hips against her. She could feel them just pressing against her entrance but not entering. “I can still mate you without it. But if you wish to have the full experience…”

“Go for it,” Salma said at once, then blushed a little at her own eagerness. “Please. I want to feel it.”

Galanthus’s wings buzzed, nearly lifting them off the ground. They poured the clear fluid out over her stomach, the consistency like oil. With all four hands the rubbed it slowly into her skin, massaging it in. She groaned as they brought it up to her breasts, working them gently, covering them in the slick oil which smelled, to her, faintly of bergamot, elusive and exotic. Galanthus seemed to become less composed the longer they touched her. Their tongue hung dripping from their mouth and their hips twitched, grinding against her eagerly.

“My Queen,” they said, and even through the translator she could hear their reverence, their desperation. “Please, may I?”

Salma nodded, her mouth dry, then remembered. Verbal consent.

“Yes,” she said, straining to open her legs wider in the stirrups. “Yes, please.”

Galanthus slid into her at once and she dropped her head back as shivers of pleasure ran through her, every sensation amplified by the honey they had spread within her. The first few inches slid in quickly, but as their organ thickened they slowed, pressing into her a little at a time. Salma groaned, feeling the slow, delicious stretch until her hips were shaking. Galanthus didn’t try to sheathe themselves fully before they started moving and Salma was grateful for that. But she had a feeling she would take it all before this was through, because Galanthus was picking up speed rapidly, bracing themselves on the table with one pair of hands and squeezing her hips with the other. Every thrust set off sparks behind her eyes and they kept coming faster, leaving her breathless and struggling to think straight. She could sense their almost feral desperation and it set her heart racing with desire. 

She reached up to grab them by the neck and pull them down into a sloppy kiss, their long tongue lapping at her throat and jaw before it found her mouth. It pushed back towards her throat again and her eyes rolled back as she felt it pumping, pistoning as though it were fucking her mouth. She tasted honey and felt it coating her throat, filling her with warmth.

Galanthus’s wings buzzed, the kiss only exciting them further. The stirrups held her in place but Galanthus dragged back on her hips anyway, slamming her into their thrusts. She felt herself barreling breathlessly towards orgasm again and struggled to hold it off. She’d never been this fast before. She clung to Galanthus, shaking, as pulses of pleasure shook her with every thrust, trying to hold out for just another moment, when suddenly, she felt them stop. They ceased thrusting all at once, holding perfectly still for a moment, and then suddenly they began to slowly press in again. Salma’s breath caught as she felt something hard against her entrance. She broke their kiss reluctantly to look down at where they were joined and felt her breath catch. Through Galanthus’s semi-transparent organ she could see several perfectly round, golf ball sized eggs, filling the central channel and making their already significant size practically double.

“Oh, fuck,” she whispered, feeling them press hard, her entrance stretching around the egg. All at once it slipped through and she cried out in surprise.

“Are you alright?” Galanthus asked, their hips moving in small thrusts to push the egg deeper, to work it out of their shaft and completely into her. “Do you need to stop?”

“No, please,” Salma said, shaking as she felt every movement of the hard shape within her, pressing against her insides, keeping her open wide. “Please, keep going.”

Galanthus was only too happy to comply, pressing hard against her as another egg reached her entrance. Salma bit her lip, cursing, as she felt herself stretching around it. With her legs in the stirrups and her lips spread wide around Galanthus’s eggs she felt embarrassingly exposed and open. Every time her walls clenched around the intrusion she felt a wave of pleasure rock through her. It felt incredible, but it wasn’t enough to finish her. She wanted more. The second egg popped in and almost immediately she felt a third take its place as Galanthus thrust slowly into her, working the others deeper. She felt them moving against one another, the movement strange and exhilarating within her. The third egg popped in, leaving her breathless and shaking, but she could already feel another. She could lose her mind like this, she thought. The endless amazing stretch of the eggs, the brief rising tension of Galanthus’s thrusts, bringing her close but never letting her finish, the strange roll of the eggs against one another inside her…

She felt the fifth egg slip in and didn’t feel another after it, and for a moment she was almost disappointed. And then Galanthus began to thrust again, fucking her fast and hard, the full length of their thickened shaft jostling the eggs within her, making them grind against her insides. She swore loudly, clinging to the table to ground herself. One of their hands found her hip, the other her clit, rubbing in hard circles. The other two squeezed her breasts tightly as they bent to kiss her and she wrapped her lips around the thick length of their tongue in shameless lust. She came, moaning around the captain’s tongue as she shook, her body burning as her over stimulated nerves went haywire. Galanthus fucked her straight through it and into a second until she was babbling, begging half for rest and half for him to never, ever stop. Suddenly, they slammed as deeply into her as they could, bottoming out at last, and she felt a spreading warmth pooling within her and dripping out of her around them. They’d filled her to overflowing.

They lay where they were for a long moment, her face in Galanthus’s fluff, catching her breath, her head spinning. She could feel them inside her still, pulsing as they continued to pour a thick, pearly liquid into her. She could feel the eggs too, a strange, heavy weight within her, shifting whenever she moved and sending delicious little echoes of pleasure through her. Slowly, Galanthus began to pull away, pausing over her to run their tongue over her lips in their best attempt at a kiss. She loved it.

She groaned as she felt them pulling out of her, though they went cautiously for her. She still felt full and heavy, but she missed their warmth. She felt, with a touch of embarrassment, the gush of fluid that followed their exit.

“I will say this.” Galanthus spoke as they straightened up and reached for her leg to free her from the stirrup. “It has never been that satisfying with a Queen before.”

They ran their tongue over the inside of her thigh in another faux kiss before removing the velcro strap and letting her leg down. They repeated this with her other leg. Salma could only lie there, overwhelmed and craving a nap. Galanthus considered her for a moment, then scooped her up in all four arms and carried her back towards what would be her rooms, if she decided to stay. They quickly cleaned her off and lay her in her bed. Salma had to bite her lip to keep from moaning every time she moved and the eggs squirmed within her again.

“The eggs should dissolve within twenty four hours,” Galanthus explained, handing her a glass of water, which she gratefully accepted. “Larger… deposits… may take longer. I will let you rest before asking you to make your decision.”

“No need,” Salma said with a small, tired laugh. 

“It is well known to be a bad idea to make big decisions immediately post coitus,” Galanthus said. “You are physically drained and hormonally imbalanced.”

“Trust me, I’ve made my decision,” Salma said, smiling at him. “I’m in.”

The captain’s wings buzzed and they bent to kiss her again. She wrapped her arms around them gladly.

“For the sake of the paperwork,” Galanthus said when they separated for breath, “I will ask you that question again in an hour or so.”

“Stay with me till then?” Salma asked, and she saw their antennae twitch in what she was beginning to recognize as a smile.

“Gladly, my Queen.”


End file.
